


to be with me.

by starsqwub



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22110061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsqwub/pseuds/starsqwub
Summary: “It’s nothing,” Poe mumbled, hardly needing to state the obvious: It’s nothing compared to all you’ve lost.But Leia shook her head, and the look she held for him was full of a kind of tenderness he could feel in his bones. “No,” she said softly. “It’s everything.”(Like a mother, Poe would think later. Much later, at the foot of her deathbed. She’d been his General, and his princess, and at times, she’d settled beside him like a mother would.And oh, he missed her, too, and oh, how often.)--When Poe Dameron begins to struggle with the loss of a friend, he unknowingly taps into the Force's mysterious ways. / A post-TROS fic about remembering, and loving.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron & Temmin "Snap" Wexley, Poe Dameron/Finn, Shara Bey & Poe Dameron
Comments: 60
Kudos: 474





	to be with me.

“Little Poe,” Shara whispered, lifting her son’s tiny hand to his chest, “it’s alright. Breathe with me.”

Poe sobbed and sobbed and sobbed; he was only 6, and his emotions were so big for such a small body. His panics were getting infinitely worse. Every time Shara so much as motioned to leave through the front door, Poe’s heart would start to race, and he’d scream, and wail, and choke on his sobs, as if the worlds were ending. And they were; that’s why Shara was flying. That’s why she always had to leave through the front door.

Shara’s voice sounded the way caf tasted, warm and smooth. “Little Poe, little Poe,” she cooed, her big, calloused hand still pressing Poe’s little one firmly to his chest that shook with sobs, “breathe with me, little one.” She lifted him easily from his knees on the bedroom floor and into her lap, cradling him like a crescent moon. Her dark curly hair spilled from her messy bun and into Poe’s eyes; she swung her head gently back and forth, tickling her son’s forehead with the loose curls.

“Don’t, don’t _leave_ , Mama,” Poe croaked pitifully, barely able to spit out the words, “don’t leave me, puh, please. _Please_.” But Shara felt his little fingers spread between her hand and his little shaky chest, watched as his nostrils flared with a deep and valiant inhale…

“Sweet boy. That’s it!” Shara smiled. “Just breathe.”

Poe nodded, chin quaking. He always tried his best for Shara, always yearned to make her happy. Shara rocked him gently, and Poe’s breathing steadied, and soon he was nearly passed out cold in her strong arms, totally spent from the sobs.

Shara lifted her hand from Poe’s chest and pointed a finger to his nose. “Promise to watch over the stars and moon while I’m gone?”

Her son nodded his head sleepily. “I promise.”  
  
“You better.” Shara pushed playfully into Poe’s nose, drawing cackles from him.

“Mama, I promise,” he whined, poking back at his mother’s nose. “I’ll watch them.”

“I know.” She hunched over and planted a kiss on Poe’s brow. “Thank you, little one.”

He watched her leave again the following morning, cried at her silhouette in the frame of the front door. And though the waiting was the worst—“worse-er than Emperor Palpatine,” Poe told his grandfather, repeatedly—she eventually came back, like she always did. Like she always promised. “Poe is here, right where I left him!” she shouted happily on arrival, scooping her son up in the yard, all happy giggles and kicking legs.

“And the moon and stars, too,” Poe reminded her. “I protected them.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Poe.”

Her smile shimmered far brighter than the stars he would count for hours, all for Shara Bey.

* * *

Snap Wexley’s funeral was held in Akiva. It was a modest, quiet service; only close friends and family attended. (“Though Snap would’ve insisted,” Karé Kun corrected, her manner somber, but light, “we’re all family.”)

It was raining.

Poe had insisted on traveling alone to the funeral (save for BeeBee-Ate), despite Finn’s protests.

“Aren’t Suralinda and Jess taking a yacht? Why don’t you catch a flight with them?” Finn had asked, still panting from his loop around Rey’s training course. He was studying under Rey now that the war had ended, and just beginning to unlock his potential in the Force.

Poe shrugged, ducking Finn’s intent gaze. “X-wing’s faster. I might not stay too long, I think Suralinda n’ Jess might stick around Akiva for a few days.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed, searching Poe’s own. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand: “Let me and Rey take you in the Falcon. We’ll stay behind on the ship—“

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Poe replied, raising his hands defensively. He tried to look anywhere other than Finn’s eyes (it’d be damn near impossible to refuse him otherwise).

“I don’t like that you’re going alone. Not at all,” Finn continued, crossing his arms sternly, “not for this. I’ve got a, a—“

“A feeling? Yeah, you tend to have those, don’t you,” Poe muttered a bit too sharply, and no amount of restraint in the galaxy could keep his eyes from rolling like a BeeBee unit.

Finn’s lips pressed into a harsh line, unfazed. “Poe. Please. I’m asking you not to do this.”

And Poe couldn’t help it; his eyes locked onto Finn’s, as if lured by a magnetic pull, and by all means, he should’ve given in. He should’ve crumbled, like he always did, for that look. That face.

But no, not this time.

“I’m sorry, Finn,” Poe said, willing himself to be immovable, “but my mind’s made up. Besides, I’m not alone; I’ve got BeeBee-Ate, and _you’ve_ got your Master to tend to—“

“Do NOT call me that,” Rey’s voice called out from high above.

Finn and Poe craned their necks up to see Rey hovering about ten feet over them, legs crossed and expression serene. Poe couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Sorry ‘teach.”

“You’re not sorry,” Rey called again, then returning to a familiar, quiet chant: “Be with me, be with me, be with me…”

“I am sorry,” Poe said to Rey, and to Finn: “Really. I’m sorry. But I…”

“Am kriffing stubborn as hell,” Finn said, dragging Poe into a tight hug anyways. “Have it your way,” he sighed ruefully. Poe smiled against Finn’s neck, savoring the hug, and the sound of Finn’s voice in his ear. “Call if you need us.” Finn pulled back from the embrace: “Give the family our condolences.”

“I will,” Poe said, his voice coming out much quieter than he’d meant. “Bye Finn.”

“Bye Poe.” Finn gave Poe’s shoulder an idle stroke, terribly soft. Then, leaning in a bit closer: “Hey, when you’re back… I need to talk to you about something.”  
  
Poe’s eyes widened. He nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. “Sure, sure buddy! Anything you need,” he said. And after a few more moments _(savoring)_ , he gave Finn’s arm a quick, friendly pat. “Okay. See you soon.”

“Dameron,” Rey called, her voice play-serious and low. She gave him a little nod from her perch high above, the faintest hint of a smile painted along her sly lips.

Poe smiled, big and toothy, and gave Rey a salute. “Skywalker.”

And then he’d left them at the training course without looking back, because the only thing Poe hated more than watching someone leave home,

was being the one to leave it.

* * *

BeeBee-Ate had (thankfully) only tried to strike up a conversation once during the flight from Ajan Kloss to Akiva. The droid was usually a chatterbox, especially on long stretches of Outer Rim travel (“Like father like son,” Rey always liked to joke).

“I’m sorry buddy,” Poe murmured, eyes lost in swaths of stars, “not right now.”

BeeBee-Ate obliged, of course, even though it didn’t feel right.

But! Anything for Poe.

* * *

Snap’s grave wasn’t a real grave, of course.

His mother Norra planted a bed of flowers about a stone’s throw from their farm’s garden out back. The purples and blues and reds from the bed stood out starkly against Akiva’s rolling green hills and muggy gray sky. Their colors were beginning to blend, Poe had stared at them for so long. Cold rain streamed down the tip of Poe’s nose, and down the collar of his shirt. Bounced along the purple and blue and red petals. Bled into the dirt.

He didn’t notice Wedge approaching from behind.

“Dinner’s ready, Poe,” Wedge said gently, and for a moment, it was as if Poe were being woken up by his old instructor back in the Academy’s archives, and not standing over the bed of flowers sown for his son.

“Ah—” Poe started, his throat strained. He swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I, ah…”

Wet footsteps treaded their way closer to Poe. “I wouldn’t invoke Suralinda’s wrath, Poe. She made everything from scratch, all from our garden. And it, ah,” a friendly, weathered hand rested atop Poe’s shoulder, “it’s certainly a feast for the eyes. Hopefully for our stomachs, too.” Wedge let out a warm laugh. “Fingers crossed.”

Wedge Antilles didn’t really sound like a hardened war hero, Poe thought. He sounded… well. Like a father.

Poe turned, and for the first time since landing on Akiva, he really looked into Wedge’s eyes, dreading to meet the anger and grief that might lay there—anger and grief he’d certainly caused.

But he found none of that stuff. Not in Wedge’s eyes; not in the wrinkles lining the older man’s cheeks. Not out in the rain, hanging like a thick fog. No; all Poe found here was kindness.

“Come on,” Wedge said. “Let’s get you dried off.” He turned and trudged back up the muddy hill to the farm, fully expecting Poe to follow, which he did, after giving Snap’s flower bed one last, long stare.

* * *

He counted them when he missed her. Exactly the way he had as an anxiety-ridden kid on Yavin 4: his finger held aloft, idly pointing to every other star or so that he counted, mouthing the numbers quietly to himself. It helped clear his mind before bed. Made him feel like he had… some sort of control. He counted the stars often.  
  
He missed her often.

Leia had caught Poe star-staring one night, shortly after recruiting him from the Navy. He was sitting under one of D’Qar’s old satellite dishes, knees pulled to his chest as a child might sit, his counting-finger bobbing as he poked loosely at the sky. The General’s voice made him jump from his seat in the grass: “Commander Dameron,” Leia announced loudly.

“Ah!” Poe yelped, and though General Organa didn’t laugh much, her eyes certainly did. Especially at him, it always seemed.

(They were already close, but not as close as they would soon grow to be.)

“What’s the highest you’ve gotten to?” she asked, settling beside him on the grass as a colleague might. (Or maybe as a princess would. Poe was often surprised by all the lives lived by General Organa.)

“Uh,” Poe looked back up to the sky, eyes searching all around. “Well. I counted all the way to…” His face scrunched, wrinkling his nose and brow. “I counted all the way to two-thousand-twenty-two one night, when I was a little kid. Drew a map with the planets I knew and grouped the stars in clusters around them. It probably wasn’t very accurate,” Poe let out a little bit of a laugh, leaning back on the palms of his hands, “but I’m stubborn.”

“So I’ve gathered,” Leia replied dryly, cracking a grin. She let out a long whistle. “Two-thousand-twenty-two. Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever counted anything past 50.”

Poe snorted.

“Including my age.”

Poe clasped a swift hand to his mouth to keep a cackle at bay, but the devilish smirk on Leia’s face only broke him further. He laughed loudly—probably the loudest he’d ever laughed in front of the General, and her eyes smiled brightly in the night.

“Sorry for laughing, General,” Poe added sheepishly, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You should be, it wasn’t a joke,” she rebuked, her deadpan only sending Poe into further light-hearted wheezes. Leia turned to the stars he’d been dutifully counting. “How high did you make it tonight?”

Poe shook his head. “Not very. Kept losing count ‘round Naboo,” he explained, circling the bright planet with his finger in the air. Poe sighed, leaning forward to rest his weight on his knees. “Been kinda distracted.”

The General stayed perfectly still, her eyes fixed upon Naboo. “It distracts me, too.”

Poe tilted his head to Leia, brow arched. He could see the bright planet and its clusters of stars all reflected in the General’s pupils. (She appeared more like royalty now than she ever had before, and Poe wondered a bit at that.)

The corners of her lips suggested a sad, secret smile. She continued: “The ones I’ve lost. It can be hard to look past them.”

Poe’s eyes could’ve popped from his skull they opened so wide. He shyly swept his hair from his eyes and ducked his head, gaze glued to the grass sticking up around the heels of his boots. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, hardly needing to state the obvious: _It’s nothing compared to all you’ve lost._

But Leia shook her head, and the look she held for him was full of a kind of tenderness he could feel in his bones. “No,” she said softly. “It’s everything.”

( _Like a mother_ , Poe would think later. Much later, at the foot of her deathbed. She’d been his General, and his princess, and at times, she’d settled beside him like a mother would.

And oh, he missed her, too, and oh, how often.)

* * *

Poe tried his best to eat. Suralinda’s dinner was by all means a hit; she’d completely improvised the soup and baked a pretty impressive casserole using the veggies from Norra and Wedge’s garden, to the party’s frank delight. (“Snap would want us to celebrate,” Káre had said earlier at the eulogy, rain blending seamlessly with the tears streaming down her face. “Not just his life—though he’d, he’d certainly _love_ us throwing parties in his name, I’m sure.” Karé laughed bravely (and Jess had smiled for the first time all day at that.) “The war is over, maybe forever. Or maybe just for now. And if that is the case,” Káre met Poe’s eyes, and smiled sadly, “then that’s all the more reason to be joyful, right _now_.”)

An icy shiver ran down Poe’s spine.

“— the food?” Suralinda’s voice lilted into his ears. He jerked his head up from his full plate of bright orange casserole and leafy greens, finding the whole dining room staring back at him.

“Huh? I’m sorry, I was… What’s up?” Poe quickly stammered. He sniffed, a little too loudly, and only just realized the slight burn in his cheeks.

“I asked ‘how’s the food’, Poe! Don’t worry, you won’t hurt my feelings,” Suralinda said. She pointed at his plate. “Want me to take that?”  
  
Poe felt dazed; he shook his head and waved, sending the room into a slight spin about him. “No, no. It’s delicious.” He ventured an easy smile (though nothing was easy today). “Thank you.”

“Are you feeling alright, Poe?” Jess leaned over from her spot next to him, immediately reaching for his cheek with her little hand. “You look pretty shit—holy _shit_ , Poe, you’re on fire!”

“I told you we should’ve taken him in earlier,” Norra murmured to Wedge, inspecting Poe’s face keenly. Her husband nodded, brow creased with worry.

Poe lifted Jess’s hand from his cheek as tactfully as he could manage. “I’m _fine_ ,” he urged firmly, digging back into his dinner with newfound vigor, though his stomach immediately blanched. Still, he chewed on stubbornly.

Jess scoffed. “Like hell you are. You’re not still planning on leaving tonight, are you?”

Poe swallowed hard, his throat all scratchy and sticking. “Yes, I may have been planning that, Jessika—“

 _“Jessika!”_ Jess waved her wooden spoon towards Norra. “Oh, he’s delirious Norra. Send him to the brig.”

“I’m really fine, you guys, seriously” Poe tried to retort, sounding pitifully unconvincing. The room continued its spinning, and the party (and Poe’s control) slowly unraveled:

“You’re staying here, Poe. There’s plenty of room,” Norra insisted.  
  
Wedge began to gather the table’s empty plates. “You’re in no shape to fly.”

“You can’t make BeeBee-Ate do _all_ the work,” Suralinda chided, reaching for Poe’s full plate again.

He jerked his plate out of the way, acutely aware of his heart leaping and lurching. “Guys, I’m really—“ Poe rubbed his forehead and let out a shaky breath. “I’m really okay, can we just—“

“Don’t be dumb Poe.” Jess squeezed his shoulder. She began to take his plate. “And yes, just because you’re a General now doesn’t mean I won’t call you out on your bullsh—“

“You’re not really planning on flying back out tonight, are you Poe?” Káre asked, her eyes shining brighter than two twin moons. “Please stay.”

Poe looked to her helplessly from across the table, dizzy with fever, with grief. (For only a second he’s with Karé on D’Qar again, walking between her and Snap to the mess hall, and laughing. For only a second things are _joyful_ , like Karé wanted, and then the joy’s violently sucked away.) “Why are you—“ Poe dropped his face into his clammy hands, heart pounding. His nostrils flared.

_Breathe with me, little Poe._

“Poe…?” Jess motioned to him cautiously.  
  
“He should _be_ here,” Poe spat, hands trembling. He felt cool and shivery all over, as if he were still standing out in the rain, staring at Snap’s flower bed. “He should be here, not me.”

The silence that fell over the room landed like a heavy blow to Poe’s gut; he wished so desperately to curl up into nothing. He wished he could collapse upon himself like a dying star.  
  
Mostly, he wished Snap were here.

When Wedge spoke again, Poe’s stomach turned: “Let me show you your room, Poe.” (And there it was again; the kindness. The warmth.

The unearned grace.)

* * *

One night, well before the end of the war:

“No wonder you’re the coolest person I know,” Finn had said; he was hanging upside-down off the edge of his bunk like a kid would, holding Poe’s framed holo of Shara Bey. “Your mom was a badass.” The photo in the holo was pretty old; Shara’s hair was as wild as it ever was, same as her eyes. It’d probably been taken before Poe was even an idea.

Poe’d been reading an old book of myths, nestled in the same bunk by Finn’s feet. His eyes flitted to his mother’s holo for a brief moment, and then back to his novel. “I’m the first person you’ve met down here. Personal bias.” He turned a page, and couldn’t help his smile. “But yeah, she was.” Gaze still glued to his book, Poe slid his foot to Finn’s butt and gave a playful shove.

“POE—“ Finn’s arms flailed as he slipped from the bunk’s edge to the floor with a heavy THUNK. His head popped up comically from below, eyes narrowed. “Not cool.”

“Wasn’t me.” Poe grinned, oh-so-casually crossing one leg over the other and snuggling deeper into the bunk with his book.

In his peripheral he could just make out Finn walking to the opposite end of the room… and then, in three big, _easy_ strides, Finn dove right back into the bunk where Poe was lounging. The bed squeaked and Poe yelped and Finn cackled, squishing Poe into the wall.

“BeeBee-Ate, where are you! Help! I’m being attacked!” Poe cried breathlessly, smacking Finn’s arm with his book.

Finn threw his head back and laughed, rolling onto his stomach and relieving Poe from being pinned to the wall. The two of them could just fit in the standard-sized mattress like this, hip-to-hip. Finn smiled broadly, showing all his teeth and looking totally angelic. “Wasn’t me,” he said with a funny bob of his head.

“Hey, that was my joke, pal.” Poe playfully poked Finn’s nose with the spine of his book. “You’re a menace, you know. I see right through your Mr. Perfect persona.”

“You think I’m perfect?” Finn retorted, never missing a beat.

Poe nearly gasped at that (and looking back, Poe’s always been the one that’s so plainly see-through). But he answered, and it was honest: “I think you’re a little too good to be true sometimes.” All the times. (So… yes, pretty perfect.)

Finn grinned, propping himself up onto his elbows so that he was eye-level with Poe’s shoulders. “Weird. That’s sort of exactly what I think of you.”

“Again, biased. See,” Poe continued, thumbing through his book and ignoring the rosy tingle in his cheeks, “you’re too nice to me, Finn. You’re effusive.”  
  
Finn rolled to his side to fully face Poe now, expression unimpressed. “Here’s something I’ve been wondering: how come whenever I’m ‘effusive’, it’s always ‘bias’, but when _you’re_ effusive it’s—“

“The truth?” Poe squinted at his book’s page numbers; it was admittedly too dark to be reading—

Finn snatched the book from Poe’s grip and quickly stuffed it between his hip and the mattress. “You always do this, Poe.“

“I was kind of reading that,” Poe reached for the book, wedging his fingers between Finn’s sharp hip bone and the sheets, just scraping the book’s spine.

Finn took Poe’s reaching hand into his own. “Are you gonna listen to me?” It was a sincere question; Finn’s eyes shone earnestly at Poe in a way that was, time and time again, so effectively disarming. He waited patiently for Poe’s answer.

And Poe nodded, a little sheepish. “Yeah. I’m listening.”

“Good. ‘Cuz I’m not only going to say this _once_ ,” a sweetly-tempered smile grew along Finn’s face, “I’m gonna say it a LOT. And you have to believe, it, okay? You swear to me you’ll believe it?”

“I mean, I gotta hear what it is first, right,” Poe tried with a shrug, but Finn only squeezed his hand tighter, and smiled brighter—

“Nope. Nope. You gotta swear it. Swear on the Falcon.”

“Finn…” Poe was shaking his head, albeit tenderly, at the young man’s giddiness.

“I’m not letting you leave ’til you do,” Finn teased,

and though Poe would never dream of leaving him, he relented all the same: “Okay, okay. I swear on the _Millennium Falcon_ , I’ll _believe_ you.”  
  
Finn beamed, all mischief and pride and unfiltered joy. “Alright. First of all, Poe Dameron, you are, without a doubt, the coolest person I know.”

Poe began to roll his eyes.

“HEY. You swore!”

Poe laughed easily. He sunk a little lower into the bunk and propped himself on his side, mirroring Finn. “You’re right, you’re right. Let’s start over.” He met Finn’s eyes steadily.

“You’re the coolest person I know,” Finn repeated with a cheeky grin.

“Yeah, I am. Obviously.” Poe arched his brow comically, playing goofy-cool, and making Finn laugh.

“You’re the best pilot in the galaxy,” Finn added with a confident nod.

Poe couldn’t help but glow at that. He winked: “Damn straight.”  
  
“You’re a great leader,” Finn said then. Sincerely. _Sweetly._

Poe flinched.

And Finn waited. (Poe noticed that his hand was still in Finn’s, and that Finn maybe noticed it too, though neither of them shy’d away from it.)

Poe sighed. “Okay.”

Finn nodded; “And a great friend.”  
  
Poe smiled weakly. “Okay.”

“And a hero,” Finn finally said, and the way it sounded coming from him, of all people—and Finn squeezed Poe’s hand, already anticipating his demurral. “You are, Poe. Everyone knows it, and you definitely act it. But for reasons I truly can’t wrap my head around… you don’t believe it.”

Poe swallowed. He eyed his mother’s holo on the floor beside the bunk. (He really was see-through. Completely, utterly.)

“But I do.” Finn’s smile was lovely. “I swear on the Falcon, you’re a hero, Poe Dameron.”  
  
Force _above_ , he really was too good to be true.

The corners of Poe’s lips turned up in gentle awe.“You really are a menace.”

“I get it from Rey,” Finn said, and Poe cracked up at that.

“No kidding.” Poe snorted. “I’m scared to ask what you get from me.”

Finn beamed. “A lot.” And he shrugged, with a sly grin. “But I’m biased.”

Poe didn’t argue with that.

* * *

He slept fitfully during the night of Snap’s funeral; he lied in Norra and Wedge’s guest room for hours with his eyes glued to the ceiling, throat burning, cheeks burning, everything burning with fever. But when he did fall asleep, he dreamt,

and he dreamt this:

Reaching for the crisp white sheets covering Leia’s body,

sheets that looked like Shara’s,

wishing to see her, to be with her, 

but someone’s sitting with her there already, at the foot of the bed.

Amilyn Holdo, a vision in violet,

her long, lithe hand lightly pressed atop Leia’s,

tears streaming down her face.

Rey, she’s leaving again,

and when Rey leaves,

Finn follows,

and Poe watches like he always does, watches the leaving,

and the dying,

and the stars blinking out,

one by one.

He watches the Raddus pierce the galaxy in two,

and the flowers trembling over Snap Wexley’s grave,

and Shara Bey walking out the door,

again and again and again.

* * *

Poe gasped for breath; it was like his heart pulled him out from the dream and back into the night with its terrible, violent pounding, and Poe desperately clutched at his chest in an attempt to quiet it. He was still on fire, his dark curls slicked all about his forehead with sweat, and he was crying.

No, he was _sobbing_.

Like he was a kid again—with feelings far too big for a small, weak body.

With the wool blankets tightly gripped, Poe slipped from the guest bed and down to the floor, the wood cool and comforting against Poe’s boiling skin. He sat himself up weakly against the bed frame and lifted a clammy hand to his heart—

_Little Poe, it’s alright. Breathe with me._

“Breathe, with me,” Poe gasped; it was almost like he had two hearts beating rapidly out of sync with one another. He pressed his chest firmly: “Breathe with me. Breathe… Breathe with…” He whimpered, hoping nobody in the old farmhouse would hear him; but with the rain still steadily pounding on the windows outside, no one would likely hear Poe panicking.

He was _alone_.

His heart raced.

Poe shut his eyes tightly, and ached for one thing;

for Finn.

“Be with me,” he whispered, burying himself into his warm wool blankets. “Be with me.” His breath came unevenly, as did his words, but he pressed on through the anxiety, through the pain: “Be with me. Be with me. Please, _please_ be with me.”

He kneaded his chest the way his mother used to, and slowly, with each “be with me” Poe chanted, the terror plaguing him faded.

Poe pictured Finn’s face. “Be with me.” His smile, “be with me,” the way he _laughed_ , “be with me”,

the way he _loved_. “Be with me.”

And then his grip on the wool blanket loosened, and he slowly dropped the hand resting on his chest. Exhaustion mercifully washed over him, and Poe carefully, gratefully, curled up on the wooden floor. He dozed off, and though it was almost certainly the fever playing tricks on him, the last thing Poe swore he heard was his name being called from somewhere far out in the rain…

Thankfully, he did not dream.

* * *

Wedge only woke him once, gifting Poe with a mug of tea that went untouched. Poe slept deeply.

He woke up again, this time by a soft whisper in his ear; the voice whispered his name, and sounded the way warm tea might feel down your throat—but Poe was still alone, he found, in Norra and Wedge’s guest bedroom (and back in the bed again, though he didn’t remember climbing back into it.) He had no sense of time. His head was full of cotton; yellow light filtering in through Akiva’s cloud cover cast a warm glow about the room. Poe’s eyes traced his shadow stretching long across the wooden floorboards.

He began to remember the time, though, and who was here in the farmhouse,

and who wasn’t.

He took a sip of cold tea and buried himself in blankets, sleeping again for several hours more.

* * *

“Poe?” It was certainly Wedge’s voice that woke him up this time, accompanied by the sound of muffled stomping directly above their heads. Outside, the sun was just disappearing underneath the horizon, bathing the room in twilight.

Poe’s eyes peeled open stickily, and he rubbed them with his blanket. “Hey Wedge,” he murmured hoarsely. His throat and head were still aching, but Poe certainly felt… clearer. The sleep did him good, and surely Norra and Wedge would agree to let him take his leave today. With some effort, Poe swung his legs over the edge of the bed; “Need something? Sorry for, ah—“

“No, no,” Wedge stood at the guest room’s doorway, with a wary look tossed over his shoulder; “No need to get up. I just wanted to, er, give you a heads up—“

The sound of the ominous stomping grew louder and closer. Poe arched his brow quizzically.

Wedge’s lips curled into an apologetic grin. “You’ve got some visitors.”  
  
Perfectly cued, Finn, Rey, BeeBee-Ate, and Dee-Oh burst into the guest room past Wedge; “POE!” they all shouted (and beeped), crowding him at the bed.

His brain felt like a faulty computer, hardly able to process the sight of his family here in Akiva fast enough; he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came (a rarity for Poe Dameron).

Rey pointed directly into Poe’s shocked expression, her fingertip just grazing his nose: “BeeBee-Ate, run diagnostics.” Her mouth was full of some sort of biscuit. 

A green light flashed out from BeeBee-Ate’s focal lenses and into Poe’s eyes: “AH!” Poe flinched, shrugging into his wool blankets.

The green light dissipated, and BeeBee-Ate’s head swiveled up to Rey. _“Fever waning!”_ the droid chirped in binary. _“POE needs FLUIDS, SLEEP, and MED TABLETS.”_  
  
“I think we have meds back on the Falcon,” Finn said to Rey, and with a quick nod and another bite of a biscuit (Poe shook his head; where was she hiding those?) she ran past Wedge and back upstairs.

Wedge gave Finn a gentle nod: “I’ll go grab some more tea—“

“That,” Poe waved a weak hand, “ah, won’t be necessary, Wedge, thank you.”  
  
“What?” Finn’s brow furrowed. He kneeled onto one knee beside Poe. “You’re _sick_ , Poe, why—“  
  
“I’m gonna…” Poe slowly peeled his blankets aside and fumbled for his boots on the floor. “I’m gonna get ready to leave anyways. I can grab my own tea, thank you—“ He motioned to stand from the bed, wincing from soreness and fatigue, only to be pushed down rather firmly by Finn.

“You’re not trying this with me, not today,” Finn said, voice full of edge.  
  
“Wedge, could you excuse me and the General for a sec?” Poe asked, and then, with a polite smile to the droids at Finn’s feet: “Hey BeeBee, has Dee-Oh met Jess yet?”  
  
BeeBee-Ate gave a bright whistle, focal lenses sparkling. _“POE! Great idea!”_ BeeBee chirped. _“DEE-OH, you will LOVE JESS. She is POE’S funny BUDDY.”_

Dee-Oh rolled back and forth affirmatively on his single wheel. “Funny,” Dee-Oh repeated. “Funny-buddy!”

And the droids rolled out of the room with Wedge trailing behind them, shutting the guest bedroom’s door on the way out after giving Finn and Poe one last, wary glance.

Then: “Why are you here?” Poe asked, voice strained.

Finn blinked hard, shaking his head a little as if Poe’d given him whiplash. “Excuse me?”  
  
Poe gritted his teeth: “I told you not to come, Finn.” Something was hurting in his chest that Poe couldn’t quite name.

Lowering onto both knees now, Finn stared straight into Poe’s tired eyes, and the pain in Poe’s chest bloomed. “Poe,” Finn said carefully, “you… you called out to me, last night. Do you… remember that? At all?”

Poe’s heartbeat fluttered. “Called you?” he mouthed silently as the nightmare he’d dreamed slowly resurfaced.  
  
 _Be with me,_ he’d cried into the dark. And now…

Finn’s shoulders sank (and again, the something in Poe’s chest ached and ached): “You don’t remember?”

Poe looked to Finn, still incredulous. “You _heard_ me?” he asked, voice broken.

 _“Yes,”_ Finn breathed, and he reached as if to take Poe’s hand, but opted to curl his fingers into the bedsheets instead. “Poe, I heard you as clearly as I hear you now, and I felt…” He winced, chin dimpled with worry: “I felt you _hurting_ , Poe. We all raced to the Falcon the minute I heard you,” Finn’s fingers uncurled in the bedsheets to just barely, _barely_ brush against Poe’s knuckles, “to be with you.”

The hurt in Poe’s chest lightened, if only for a moment. He savored the feeling of Finn’s cool fingers against his warm skin.

(Poe had always been impulsive to a fault. It was why he cringed as he spoke now, why he would’ve taken the worst of this fever all over again if it just meant he’d shut his kriffing mouth…) “You shouldn’t have come,” Poe said lowly.

(And now his chest was hurting twice-fold, as if enduring a heartbreak worth two hearts.)

Finn fell back onto the heels of his boots, mouth slack with bewilderment. “Are we really doing this? Right now? You know I’ll win, Poe.” And Poe did know that, deep down, even if he couldn’t bear to admit it. Poe was stubborn, but Finn was _good_.

With Finn, he’d forever fight losing battles.

But Poe staggered on, cheeks burning: “I needed this, Finn. I needed to do this _alone_ —“

“And how’d that work out for you, huh,” Finn quickly countered, gesturing to the bedridden pilot.

“I’m fine, I told you, I’m gonna fly out today,“ why was he so angry now? With Finn, of all people—“I don’t need you to, to help me, okay? I don’t WANT you to help me," why couldn’t he embrace him? Why couldn’t he just be with him, like he wanted? Like he’d begged for—“Just go. Leave,“ like he’d _needed_ , “please.” Poe gripped at his chest; the pain there grew endlessly, like a terrible black hole.

“No way.” Finn’s voice was steady as ever. He stood from his seat on the floor to join Poe on the bed, reaching hesitantly for the spot Poe was clutching at. “Poe, listen to me. I wanted to—“

“No! No, _you_ listen to _me_ , okay,” and there was a bubbling hurt in Poe’s throat that he couldn’t control, and an all-too-familiar panic rising up from his gut, “I don’t deserve any of this shit. I’m not a hero, okay Finn? You’re _wrong_.”

Finn’s nostrils flared. “Poe—“

“You are,” Poe repeated, and the black hole in his chest raged on; “A hero would’ve been able to save them.”  
  
“…Save _who_ ,” Finn asked, brow creased.

“The ones he loved!” Poe gasped, and the panic was gripping him now, “I’ve done nothing but watch them leave, over and over again, I’ve done nothing but fail—“  
  
“Poe,” Finn’s voice grew softer, “you’re hurting.” His dark eyes flashed with pain.

“I deserve worse than that, worse than _hurting_ ,” Poe shook his head, hiding his warm face in his hands, “so much worse.” Nothing was right; Poe felt so sick to his stomach, and it was more than illness. It was just raw, outright badness, gnawing at his insides and all his memories.

Finn jumped up from the bed then, hands rifling through his hair: “Why would you ever say that?” He stormed across the room, and Poe could’ve very well withered from how cold he suddenly felt without Finn by his side; “Sometimes...I seriously—“ Finn huffed, whirling around to face Poe again. “I don’t even know how to respond to that, Poe.”

“What, the truth?” Poe retorted far too easily.

Finn held up an accusatory finger, only to immediately let it drop; “Damn it,” he sighed, voice broken. Finn looked exhausted; like he could sleep for a whole night and whole day, just like Poe had. He shook his head helplessly, and then, to Poe’s complete surprise, he laughed. “Poe, if you want someone to, to hate you, or _punish_ you… you won’t find that here,” it was almost completely dark in the bedroom now, save for a hint of Akiva’s moon reflected in Finn’s big eyes: “Not from people who love you.”

Finn looked to him knowingly.

 _Longingly_ , even.

And Poe thought, again, of losing battles.

Finn continued, quiet: “You… you _have_ to know why I’m really here. Right?”  
  
Poe’s eyes went wide, like a star bursting. His heart flurried.

(He was so plainly see-through. Had always been. And had always hoped that, of all people, Finn would maybe see through him,

and still love him all the same.)

“Yeah, well,” Poe’s eyes felt so heavy, staring into Finn’s, and he spoke slowly: “You’re wrong about that, too.”

Finn flinched, as if struck, and the pain in Poe’s chest—the empty, black hole—it grew and grew and grew for a moment, and then—

Finn stood a little straighter, expression hard as stone,

and the pain in Poe’s chest disappeared, though the emptiness lingered.

“No,” Finn said, and his eyes were wet: “I don’t think I am.”

And Poe watched him as he walked out the door.

For a few moments, Poe almost felt as if this were all a dream: Finn, and Rey, and the droids, bursting into his room from the light outside, and finding him alone in the dark within. Finn being with him. The moon in his eyes. But it wasn’t a dream, it was real; and Poe was alone all over again, and that was real, too.

He sat for a bit in the dark, wrapped in his blanket.

But then Rey knocked at the bedroom door’s threshold with her staff.

“Tablets for you,” Rey walked across the room in a few quick strides and pressed a pack of blueish gray pills into Poe’s lax open hand. Rey wasn’t a very touchy person, but she gave Poe’s hand a kind squeeze before retracting her own. “Where did Finn go,” she asked (as if she even had to ask).

“I don’t know,” Poe whispered. He looked to Rey, her wraps standing out in the room like big white stripes painted on a black canvas. “Did you hear me too?” Poe asked suddenly. “Or… _feel_ it, in the Force. When I called.”

Rey shook her head gently, giving Poe a sad smile. “I sensed a disturbance, but it was from Finn,” she backed her way out of the room, “sensing your pain.”  
  
Poe watched Rey’s slim silhouette turn in the doorway.

“It hurt him, then,” she said. “Like it’s hurting him now.” She tilted her head, eyes searching his own. “Do you feel it, too.”

Poe lifted a hand to his heart, thumbing at his shirt’s thin fabric. Hot tears pricked at his eyes.

He didn’t give an answer.

Rey cleared her throat, and rapped her staff lightly against the door. “Get some rest, Poe. We’ll head back home in the morning.”

* * *

“Okay, can I ask you a sort of… cheesy question,” Poe had said, giving his green cocktail a little swirl.

“No,” Snap replied, and then immediately, “I’m kidding. Cheese away.”

Black Squadron had thrown a reception for his and Karé’s wedding in the base hangar on D’Qar. The party was stretching long into the night; Jess and Karé were giggling and slow dancing together, while Suralinda sang radio hits to no one in particular. BeeBee-Ate rolled happily about from one gathered group of partiers to the next, like a tiny, unofficial host of the evening’s festivities.

Snap and Poe watched from just outside the hangar, enjoying D’Qar’s cool breeze as they nursed their drinks.

“How did you know Karé… you know. How’d you know…” Poe struggled for the words.

“How’d I know she’s the one?”  
  
“Yeah,” Poe laughed, “how’d you _know_ , y’know.”

Snap laughed, too. “That _is_ cheesy.” He took a sip from his ale. “How do you even put that into words,” he said, mostly to himself.

Poe traced Snap’s eye line to Karé, who was whispering something into Jess’s ear. Jess smiled, half-asleep against the taller woman’s chest, and said something that made Karé fall apart into giggles. Poe smiled at the sight.

“I guess…” Snap let out a contented sigh. “It’s a cop-out to say I just knew it, huh.“

“Completely. I’m deeply disappointed in that answer.”

“It was the _Force_ , Poe,” Snap said faux-dramatically, “it said, ’Hey! There she is, Temmin! Don’t mess this up!’”

Poe laughed gleefully, holding a hand his stomach. He wiped a tear from his eye. “All is as the Force wills it, yada yada.”

“Lucky for me.” Snap merrily raised his glass, and looked to Karé again.  
  
They waited for a little while longer like that. _(Poe would always remember how rosy Snap’s cheeks were that night, and how truly happy he looked every time he watched Káre in the hangar.)_

Snap spoke up again, gesturing with his mug of ale: “I just wanted to _be_ with her, you know.” He furrowed his brow, thinking hard. “All the time. And all the things I was feeling… good feelings, the bad feelings, too, they all stem from that. I get scared when she’s not with me, or if she’s with me and I’m being an idiot and fighting with her, it’s like, what’s the point of fighting with her, when…”

Karé spun Jess around in a circle, and the two laughed and teetered, tipsy and bright.

“…When I get to be with her, you know?” Snap smiled. “And I remember that, and the bickering and the war and all that bad stuff is worth it, just so long as I get to do it all with Karé.”

Poe watched his friend for a moment. He felt for the light, nearly indiscernible weight of the necklace he’d worn since his mother’s passing: a shiny, silver chain that held a gilded ring. Shara’s wedding ring.

And then he cracked a toothy grin. “Now _that_ was cheesy.”

“Screw you, Poe,” Snap said,

and they laughed, and there was peace in the galaxy, at least for one night.

* * *

This was probably a bad idea, given the state of… _everything_. He had a habit of setting things on fire—mostly emotionally. Sometimes… well, sometimes things really ended up on fire, too. But Poe stomped out of Norra and Wedge’s farmhouse all the same, still wrapped in his blankets (having not been able to find where Wedge had put his jacket and day clothes), and made his way to the Falcon, hoping he could more or less make things right.

The Falcon sat at the peak of the grassy hill Wedge and Norra lived on, and Poe’s X-wing was parked only a few paces before it. Before he could quietly sneak onto the old freighter’s entry ramp, a voice cut out into the quiet night:  
  
“Dameron.”

Poe’s shoulders scrunched up guiltily; the voice had come from his X-wing. And there, standing atop its S-foil with her staff armed, stood Rey (and on any other day, Poe would’ve gladly admitted how damn _cool_ she looked right now, like the cartoon vigilantes he used to draw in his notebooks as a child). She was chewing on something again, always snacking.

“Skywalker,” Poe replied, shrugging sheepishly. He watched as she hopped into a seated position atop the S-foil. “You’re here in case I jump ship.”

“Indeed, General,” Rey said with a smirk, kicking her legs around like a little kid might. Then, with her expression drawn quite gravely: “You’re not seriously thinking of taking this X-wing, are you,” she pointed her staff to him, “because I will not show you mercy just because you’ve caught cold.”

Poe couldn’t help but smile at Rey’s unerring earnestness. “I know you wouldn’t, and I’m not. I don’t need Threepio to tell me the odds of a fight with Rey Skywalker.”

Though Rey was a tougher one to charm, she bit her lip shyly at that.

Poe pulled a little tighter at his blankets. “I was just—“

“He’s inside making repairs,” Rey said, pointing to the Falcon with her staff. (As if Poe even had to ask.)

He gave a short nod. “Thanks. Ah.” His brow furrowed as he thought some more, and then: “Thanks.”

Rey’s lips bloomed into her long, pink smile, dimples out. “You’re welcome, Poe.”

And maybe Poe was the one who was charmed, this time; he ducked his head, blushing a bit, and made his way up the Falcon’s entry ramp.

* * *

Finn was lost in thought and fiddling with cables in one of the floor compartments adjacent to the Falcon’s power core. He hit his head hard on a metal overhang when Poe greeted him.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” Poe bleated, kneeling down to Finn in the compartment. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Poe?” Finn craned his neck up to the pilot swaddled in blankets. “What are you—what’s wrong? Do you need something—?” He touched the new bruise on his head gingerly. _“Ow.”_

Poe winced, reaching helplessly to Finn’s head. “I’m sorry, Finn—“

“No, no. It’s fine.” Finn ducked away from Poe’s hand, and continued with his fiddling. “You really should be resting, Poe.” He grabbed a delicate metal tool near his ankle and twisted it into a box full of pipes and wires.  
  
Poe kneeled over the floor compartment, feeling a little childlike in his pajamas and blankets. “I know.” _But…_ Poe thought, _tell him why you’re here. Tell him why you’re not resting._

_Tell him where you want to be._

“Do you need any help down there?” Poe tried.

Finn eyed him. “…No, I’m good.” He turned back to his tweaking and fixing, reaching for another tool by his... Finn’s hand pawed the empty space around his legs. “Oh. Actually.”  
  
Poe perked a bit.

“Can you hand me my wrench? It should be around…”

Poe whipped his head eagerly about the station, spying a blue engineer’s wrench to his left. “Here.”

He lowered the wrench to Finn, and Finn accepted it with a small, polite smile. “Thanks.”

Their fingers brushed in the exchange.

And Finn continued working in a productive silence, with Poe gawking up above. It almost felt like things were sort of… normal. Poe watched Finn reach for the sore spot on his head again. “Do you want some ice for that,” Poe asked.

“Ah…” Finn dropped his hand to his neck and pulled at it. “No. Thank you.”

Poe’s heart sank a bit. No, things weren’t normal.

 _Tell him_ , his heart urged.

“I’m sorry, uh, for…” Poe swallowed, gripping at his blankets. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be,” Finn said simply, giving a compressor a final, definitive crank of his wrench. He climbed out of the floor compartment, then, and walked into a nearby corridor, making sure to give Poe a wide berth.

Poe blinked. “Uh, wait—“ He scrambled to his feet, following Finn’s path. “Finn.”

He found Finn wedged into a tight engineering station in the cargo bay, averting Poe’s gaze.

Poe hovered from behind. “At least let me explain myself.”  
  
“No need.” Finn continued tinkering.

“Well, I _want_ to,” Poe winced.

“I know you do.” Finn’s shoulders drooped, and he turned his head just enough for Poe to see his profile. “And I know you won’t care when I forgive you.”

Poe balked a bit. “I care,” he countered, nodding his head abstractedly.

Finn laughed. “Sure. Okay.” He turned back to the panel he was making adjustments to, but Poe only grew more adamant.

“I _care_ , Finn,” Poe stressed, and he gulped a bit. “What you think is what I care most about.”

Finn’s shoulders shook with another rueful laugh. “Alright Poe.”

“Hey! What the hell, Finn.” Poe’s hoarse voice rang out powerfully in the cabin—more powerfully than he’d intended.

Finn waited a moment. Took a breath. Then he turned to face Poe squarely, his shoulders barely able to fit in the station compartment. Finn crossed his arms, as if he were about to challenge Poe (who felt terribly small all of the sudden, in his thin pajamas and wool blanket).

“Swear on the Falcon,” Finn said firmly.

“Huh?”

“That you’ll believe me.” Finn leaned in closer. “Swear on it.”

Poe huffed uneasily, kicking a boot against rivets in the Falcon’s metal flooring. After a moment’s more of brooding: “I swear. On the Falcon.”

Finn softened a bit around the edges, and that feeling in Poe’s chest blossomed again—though this time it wasn’t really a pain. It was more of an ache—a good ache. “I forgive you, Poe,” Finn said softly.

Poe widened his eyes, swallowing hard.

Finn cocked his head slightly, expectant.

So Poe nodded, voice caught in his throat: “Okay.”

Finn continued: “For all the things you say you’ve done,” and his voice lowered, “for all the things you say you are. I forgive you.”  
  
Poe just stared, adrift. He tried to ground himself. “Okay.” His heart pounded loudly in his ears.

And Finn’s voice was even softer, now: “Snap knew the risks, Poe. We all did. And we ended a war that should’ve been the end of us,” he drew closer to Poe, enough so that Poe had to tilt his eyes upward to meet Finn’s gaze. “With hope. Hope you gave us.”

Tears rolled freely down Poe’s cheek and jaw now, cool rivers against his warm skin. He pursed his lips and shook his head, trying so hard to will away how badly he wanted to deny Finn.

Finn lifted his hands and held the sides of Poe’s face so carefully, as if he might crumble through the cracks of Finn’s fingers. He gently, _gently_ lead Poe in closer. “Han. And Leia, and Luke,” Poe shut his eyes, the names fell so heavily onto him, “Snap, and Shara,” and the tears bled, “they didn’t fight only for you to keep on fighting, Poe. They fought for you to _live_. You’re _hurting_ yourself,” Finn brushed lightly with his thumbs at the tears on Poe’s cheeks, and his voice caught: “I’ve never felt so helpless, seeing you like this. _Feeling_ it.”  
  
“I’m _sorry_ ,” Poe whispered weakly.

“Poe, _please_ ,” Finn sounded so desperate: “I wish I could make you believe how good you are.” He rested his forehead against Poe’s, eyes closed. Poe watched Finn’s face, completely rapt in him. He savored the wonder of it all, of Finn’s eyes locked into his, of their noses just barely touching. “How lovely, and funny, and truly _good_ you are—I wish you could see it.” Finn smiled so sadly at Poe. “I have hope you will someday.”

Poe drew a shaky breath, drinking in everything about Finn in the Falcon’s cramped cargo bay that night—his face, his smile, the way he loved—and Force _above_ , Poe loved him more than anything in the whole galaxy.

He loved him so, _so_ much.

“I want,” Poe said, voice trembling, “to believe you.”

Finn searched Poe’s eyes. “Then believe me,” he said simply.

Poe lifted his hands to grip Finn’s shirt collar, and the wool blanket slipped out from his grasp to the floor. “And I want to be _with_ you,” Poe was breathless, from fever, and something more, “Finn.”

And Finn’s breath hitched at that; he pulled back a bit from Poe, as if to get a clearer view of him.

Poe waited.

“Then be with me,” Finn whispered.

Finn pulled Poe to his lips, and Poe pulled Finn into his.

(He didn’t know love could be this big; he didn’t know anything could be.)

Finn’s skin felt so _cold_ and _good_ against Poe’s warm face, and Poe pushed deeper into their kiss, lifting his hands from Finn’s shoulders and reaching up to his neck, feeling his strong jaw, kissing there, too; Finn’s fingers strayed from Poe’s cheeks and combed into his curly dark hair, and the two slowly sank from where they were pinned on the wall, inch by inch, kiss after kiss, until they were both huddled on the metal floor, boots tangled with each other’s and with Poe’s woolen blanket.

The way Finn’s mouth felt moving along his, the feeling of Finn’s fingers pressing lightly along Poe’s pulse—Poe nearly laughed, it just made him _so_ happy. It made him light. Kissing Finn felt like flying.

It felt even better than that.

(Poe was used to _savoring_ because he was so used to losing what he loved. He’d lived everyday of his life just waiting to say goodbye, waiting to fail, and to hurt.

No,

Poe was going to _live_ now.

Poe was going to live, and he was going to love Finn,

and _be with him,_

and believe him when Finn loved him back.)

Poe pulled back from Finn’s lips briefly, only to whack his own head straight into a metal panel in the wall. “OW,” he cried with a laugh, and Finn laughed too, pulling the pilot back onto him while tenderly cupping Poe’s head. “You can’t be very comfortable down there,” Poe added, just noticing how awkwardly wedged they were.

With his free hand, Finn grabbed Poe’s blanket and wrapped it as best he could around the two of them. “You have no idea what an ex-Stormtrooper can sleep through,” he quipped lowly, and Poe tossed his head back to laugh—but before he could nearly ring his own bell again against the wall, Finn pulled Poe to his chest. “You’re seriously gonna give yourself a concussion, Poe.”

Poe laughed hard, his breath blowing hot against Finn’s chest. “Sorry, sorry. Just, ah,” he let out a bewildered sigh. “A little overwhelmed.”

Finn combed Poe’s curly bangs in sweet strokes up and out from his eyes. “You’re warm still,” Finn said. “Hmm.”

That feeling in Poe’s chest bloomed again (something tender, now; where he’d once felt empty, Poe now felt full).

Poe looked up to Finn through his eyelashes. “We’re connected, aren’t we,” he thought aloud.

Finn’s stroking slowed a bit; “You feel it, too,” he said. A question. (A hopeful one.)

Poe nodded. “I felt it when we’d fought in the farmhouse. It was just like… like the stories you’ve told me, about you and Rey, and the Force. I could feel what you were feeling,” Poe’s heart sank a little. “And I still hurt you anyways.”

“It’s okay.” Finn pressed a kiss to Poe’s forehead. The corners of his mouth turned up cheekily, as if Finn were keeping secrets. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Guns a-blazing,” Poe said, and his chin shook along with Finn’s chest as he laughed. “I’m stubborn.”  
  
“So kriffing _stubborn_ ,” Finn said lowly, and Poe’s eyes grew wide at that. Finn shifted a bit so that he could sit a little taller. He ran his knuckles softly and slowly across Poe’s forehead, and down his temple, and traced Poe’s jaw, and his square chin. “I love you.”

And Poe’s smile shimmered far brighter than all the stars he’d ever counted; probably brighter than the moon, too.

Poe _believed_ him—and Finn must’ve felt it, because he smiled just as big, just as bright, and kissed Poe again,

kissed him true.

And Poe whispered to Finn through kisses, “I love you, too.”

* * *

Since Poe was still sick and recovering, Finn declined sharing a bunk with him for the night, to Poe’s ( _very_ vocal) dismay. Finn didn’t want him to overheat, and he reminded Poe, all smug-like: “Ex-Stormtrooper. I can sleep literally anywhere.”

So Poe slept in his bunk and Finn slept on the floor beside him, their fingers loosely intertwined throughout the night.

Though he fell asleep quite easily, Poe did wake up once—startled from a dream again, even now.

“Be with me,” Finn whispered through the dark with a yawn, squeezing Poe’s hand sleepily. “Be with me.”

And Poe squeezed back, for once feeling so wonderfully unafraid and light—a rarity, for Poe Dameron, in the dark of the night.

* * *

They left Akiva a little later than planned.

First there was the food—scrambled eggs, and freshly squeezed juice that made Rey’s eyes go glossy, so they stayed for breakfast. Poe drank tons of tea under Finn and BeeBee-Ate’s watchful eyes, and he even nibbled on some eggs. They were pretty damn good.  
  
And Finn and Wedge started swapping stories—because Wedge always tells really good stories, Poe’d heard ‘em all and still couldn’t believe them—so they stayed for lunch, too. Suralinda made more casserole. Rey was so happy she literally hovered.

And Jess was completely enamored by Dee-Oh—she was famously a droid-repellant amongst her friends, but with Dee-Oh, things were _simple_ , and Jess liked that.

And Karé poured some drinks out a little early, and she taught Finn some dance steps, and Finn kept looking to Poe for approval (as if Poe would ever _not_ approve of Finn dancing, of Finn smiling from ear-to-ear).

She danced with Poe, too. He thought to apologize for his outburst earlier in the week. (Finn had advised him earlier that morning: “What if… every time you feel the need to say sorry this week, you… thank someone instead. Could you try that?”

Poe had grinned. “For you, I could try it.”)

So he thanked Karé for being so patient with him, and for being such a good co-pilot, and an even better friend. And for teaching Finn her dance steps—

“Oh Poe,” Karé wrapped her arms around Poe’s neck, folding him into a warm embrace. She smiled into his curly hair. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

The day passed by _joyfully_.

Snap would have loved it.

* * *

They left later in the evening, around sunset.  
  
Rey was absolutely giddy—she’d been hopping at any chance she could get to fly X-wings, and pulled her helmet on nice and snug. “Race you home?” she asked, and then, a bit sheepish, “Only kidding.”

“You know…” Poe leaned out from the Falcon’s entryway, watching Rey slip into his X-wing’s cockpit. “You and Finn have your nifty training course. What if I set us up with a flying course, huh?”  
  
Finn echoed Poe as he stepped up the Falcon’s entry ramp: “ _Nifty_.” He pinched Poe’s side affectionately before making his way to the cockpit.

Rey’s expression lit up, like a flower blooming. “Really? You’d train me?”

“Well,” Poe shrugged. “ _Challenge_ you, more like. You’d be up for that?”

Rey beamed, smiling with all her teeth showing. “More than up for it, Master Poe!”

“HA!” Poe laughed, shaking his head. “You’re right, that is weird.”

“This is going to be fun, I can already tell,” Rey said coyly, and then, suddenly: “Oh!” She unstrapped her staff and tossed it Poe’s way; he caught it cleanly, to her delight. She saluted him the way Poe always would. “Dameron!”

“Skywalker,” he teased, “careful with that droid!”

 _“Always!”_ Rey called, followed by a cheery whistle from BeeBee-Ate in the X-wing’s droid socket.

He affectionately watched their take-off until Rey was a speck in Akiva’s sky,

waved one last goodbye to the farmhouse, and Snap’s flowers,

and walked up the ramp to the Millennium Falcon.

* * *

The ship glided through hyperspace in streaks of blue and white.  
  
Poe had passed out pretty immediately after take-off, still steadily recovering. Finn joined him from the cockpit after they’d entered light speed, and maneuvered into Poe’s tiny bunk. It was only a little bit smaller than Finn’s bed back in the base on Ajan Kloss; Poe adjusted appropriately, curling to his side and laying his head on Finn’s lap.

Finn combed through Poe’s hair sweetly, and they rested a while like that, with Finn trying his best to keep still for Poe.

But Poe was decidedly awake, now. And he was thinking.

He started to speak: “I’m…” and stopped, furrowing his brow. Thinking, thinking.

Finn tilted his head curiously. “Hm?”

Poe shook his head in Finn’s lap. And then he tried again: “Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything."

And he was starting to tune in with it now, his connection with Finn—the warmth in his chest. The light.  
  
Finn scooted down the bunk to lie on his side, too, facing Poe, and smiled, looking terribly mischievous.

“ _General_ ,” Finn said, grin growing sweet and wide.

And Poe laughed, reaching up to feel Finn’s cheek—

(Loving him was by far the easiest thing he’d ever done. Snap was right—

_you just know it.)_

“ _General_ ,” Poe replied.

And Poe kissed him gently for each and every star in the sky.


End file.
